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As a teenager, I always wanted the "perfect girl". As a young man, I ended up living alone--women I met were always too much this or too little that. As time passed, I noticed my standards were continuing to go up... while my qualifications were going down. The long run had started to become the short run.
And now the moment has arrived -- I’ll take anyone.
Neurotic, psychotic, short and/or fat, soaked in cheap perfume... that’s all right with me. Dominating, smothering, argumentative... if she’s got acne, prickly heat... I can live with it. If she’s untidy, lies to me, cries all the time... no problem.
I’ll be on a mission: I’ll sign up at a health club. I’ll get a puppy. I’ll try personal ads... dating services... sushi bars. I’ll go to AA meetings. Whatever it takes--I’ll humiliate myself. The next woman who’ll have me... she’s the one. Count me in.
Part of me thinks... maybe... I’ve become too anxious.
My married buddies tell me that taking "anyone", as a policy, is a bad idea. Even when you consider years of potential mates, and select someone who seems totally compatible... it still doesn’t work for half the people.
So I asked my dad about it. "When I was a boy... the first girl you wanted to fool around with. First one. That was it: bang. Mating was over. ‘Perfect girl’. Go ask someone else."
My mother tried to keep her advice more practical: "Anyone who could live with you, honey... she’s the perfect girl".
I suspect the whole idea was invented by a public relations firm in Hollywood to get young boys to fall in love with Debbie Reynolds.
So forget about "soul mate", it’s the next one who walks in the door for me. I’m ready. I’ll take her on the rebound. I’ll take her under emotional duress.
Twenty or thirty-five, fifty or sixty... or... well, she should still be mobile.
My standards are close to zero. If it’s legal, I’m flexible. Really, I’ll take anyone.
OK, I’d prefer someone without one of those noses that you can see into. But I’ll take whatever I get. I mean, anyone would be bound to have some good qualities. Use of the English language would be helpful. Although I’d consider the severely speech impaired.
What I can’t stand is women who refer to the bathroom the "tinkle house", and sex as "kissy face". And I must admit that squeaky voices make me... grumpy. I mean, I have some very minor faults. You couldn’t even really call them "faults", really. More like... "charm".
Of course, nobody likes litterers, smokers or women who think their fathers were super-heroes. Honestly, I haven’t been that successful with women who hate their fathers either. It’d be nice if she recycled; I think that’s important. But I’m not sleeping with animals in the bed, that’s one thing. And I don’t think you should show your scars to the guests at the dinner table.
But really, anyone. As long as she’d make a good mother. For a kid, I mean. And doesn’t smell my clothes all the time and make faces. That drives me nuts! And doesn’t jump up in the morning and turn on rock & roll. In fact, no loud music in the morning would be fine with me. I like the silence, mostly. And, oh yeah, I really do not like to be tickled.
You know what? I’ll wait.
The story I'LL TAKE ANYONE is Copyright 1998 by Dennis Lamour.
The collection of works called Fish Eggs For The Soul is Copyright 1998 by Brian Rickman.
Copy edited by
Sara
Fawbush, editor of The
Young Writer's Collection.